


have a little empathy, will ya?

by ShipperTrash140109



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, a lot of implied relationships, i dont know what this is, i just really like sean okay?, john wishes he was deaf, just guys being dudes, porn without feelings, sean and john have no actual interest in eachother, sean is a dumb binch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 17:04:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19445809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipperTrash140109/pseuds/ShipperTrash140109
Summary: “What’s it liked being fucked by Arthur Morgan?”“It’s a great deal more fun than being fucked by you, Marston”dont ask what this is because you're not going to get a straight answer





	have a little empathy, will ya?

**Author's Note:**

> all i gotta say is i'm sorry for making this a thing, i dont know why i did it
> 
> also pls leave comments xxxxx
> 
> seriously, i need them

In hindsight, it was probably a bad idea to follow a lead given to you by a man with a gun pointed to his head. It was also a worse idea to then insist that out of everyone in camp, John Marston was the best and only choice to assist. He’s not even fully sure why he did it, other than for the reason that Arthur was out in the wilderness somewhere and everyone else in camp disliked him. So did John, but even he wasn’t proud enough to pass up an opportunity to find a pile of money. Not that that was in any way possible now with them lost in the middle of nowhere (which was the whole west if he’s honest, but this was more nowhere than usual).

“I can’t believe this happened, I can’t believe I even trusted that you’d have a plan in the first place! Goddammit Sean!” John huffed as he glared angrily into the small, reaching flames of their fire, moodily throwing a stone at the ground. The light reflected off his eyes and lit his skin to make him look almost eerie in nature. Sean swallowed thickly, this would be a fearful night, John seemed the type to cut your throat in your sleep.

“In me own defence, I caught us dinner!”

“Bullshit, you missed so many times it had a heart attack from stress, I hardly call that ‘catching us dinner’!” John was irritated, very irritated- out of all the people he had to be stuck with until morning- until they could see where they were going again and maybe find their way to a main road, either that or wait until someone from camp tracks them down, they had, after all told everyone they’d be back by dinner. obviously, they’d poorly calculated the ‘Sean Macguire fucks up again’ paradox in their plans.

“Whatever, there’s no winning wit’ you” Sean grumbles, pushing at a tent peg to make sure he wouldn’t be smothered by a collapsed shelter in the middle of the night.

“At least we know someone’s going to come find us if we take too long. Can’t imagine Arthur would want his… his whatever you are, getting lost and eaten by bears” John suggested after a moment of silence, rubbing at his face with a hand, the scars along his jaw thick and raised and disarmingly smooth under his fingers.

“Ha, not likely- hate to say it, but there’s nothing stopping him from leaving us out here, I’m not anything other than convenient for him. But who knows, that old bastard is full of surprises” John could tell that saying those things hurt Sean more than he cared to admit it, it was likely a similar feeling to the one John got every time he was around Abigail; always waiting for the affirmation of love that would never come, the shared sentiment cooled his boiling blood for a moment.

“I-I’m sorry about that Sean… I’m sure it’s not like that- Arthur’s not like that” John had been around Arthur for a long time, he knew the older man to some degree, a lot more than others did, at least. It just didn’t strike him as something Arthur would do- he didn’t use people he knew and considered family like that.

“You don’t know nothing, John!” the ginger snapped, and the other man flinched back, caught off guard by the sudden aggression, he hadn’t really been expecting the interaction to spiral so quickly like that, even if it had started off volatile. He threw his hands up in front of him and mumbled an apology, he didn’t want to start a fist fight right now. After a moment, something changed in Sean’s eyes and he fell back against the grass, pressing his fingers to his eyes, groaning irritably. “You didn’t do nothing- I’m just usually impaled on ten inches of gunslinger by now, so I’m a little fuckn irritated” that _really_ caught John off guard, that much was clear thanks to the way his mouth hung open and his eyes widened so much they looked ready to fall from his head. _Ten inches?_

He took a moment to recover, and then as soon as he could think straight, he was moving to retire into his tent, this was more than enough Sean for one night. He felt awkward as he lay on his sleeping bag, Sean’s graphic words still whirling around his mind, the last thing he wanted to go to sleep thinking about, was Arthur Morgan’s… just the thought of it made him feel both inadequate and icky.

Though, it seemed he wasn’t the only one struggling to find sleep, because in the silence of the wilderness, he could hear everything; the chatter of unseen creatures, the hiss of the wind, and Sean groaning and moaning and shuffling around in his tent. John sighed, not sure what to do; he felt awake, completely awake, his mind much too lively with images he could’ve gone his whole life without.

The minutes went on, and the ginger in the tent next to John’s kept messing around, he was irritated by something, maybe there was a rock under his sleeping bag, maybe he was scared… _maybe he misses Arthur’s giant-_ NO, no, no, he wasn’t even going to entertain the thought. Abigail, think of Abigail, gorgeous Abigail who he had once and let slip away. Strong, independent, hateful Abigail. He’d had her, had her under him, oh she was beautiful, and what was more beautiful was the look of pure love and excitement on her face, so giddy with the idea that she’d seemingly come across her dream man. So much for that.

He felt a painful twinge in his stomach, thinking of how much Abigail had grown to dislike him, along with Sean apparently missing a bed buddy had him painfully aware of how lonely he was, how long it had been since he’d been with anyone… it had to have been years, surely. He wishes he were as lucky as Sean.

Speaking of Sean, John heard the man shuffle out of his tent, stumbling around the campfire and growing strangely close to the other man’s tent. The dark-haired gunslinger narrowed his eyes, what was this creep doing?

He didn’t have to wait long for an answer, because suddenly his tent was ripped open and his lap quickly grew full with the younger man. He could hear himself shouting, demanding to know what he was doing, who he thought he was to be acting like this, but all he could focus on was the hardness of the other man, how heavy a weight he was on top of John’s long abandoned cock. He was torn between being a man, being a woman loving man, and being a lonely man who hadn’t had anyone in years and felt cripplingly lonely.

“We can’t, get off!” John commanded, trying to shove the man off but failing, the ginger coming back in full force, his hips needily grinding down on the other man and catching his cock’s attention almost embarrassingly fast.

“Why no’?” the Irishman pleaded, head tipped back, John making another move to push him off but instead finding his hands quickly pinned to the ground. He gave up the fight easier than he’d like to admit to himself.

“A-Abigail, I can’t do that to”

“To who? A woman who barely wants to look at you, let alone keep you to herself? Tell me, what’s it like dreaming of a girl who doesn’t want you within ten feet of her? One of a likely many, I might add” Sean’s words stung, and John hated admitting he was right, so horribly right, and he felt that familiar ache in his chest again. He tried to retort, but all that came out was a strangled groan, between being so perfectly debunked, and getting more attention down there than he’d had for a long time, his brain and mouth weren’t exactly helping.

“I can’t- I can’t hurt her again” John finally managed, and for a moment, he thought he saw remorse in those hungry grey eyes.

“She won’t find out, we’re in the wilds for fuck sake, and this isn’t anything- just you helping a mate, I’ll tell no one, I just need this from you, please John… I’ll turn around, you can pretend I’m anyone else, I just need your little man to do his thing,” John grimaced, this sounded horrible, and he hated the desperate parts of his mind trying to agree with it. He supposed though, Sean did have longer hair, and John was imaginative, right?

When he sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and hesitantly rolling back up against the ginger, he heard the latter suck in an excited breath, the cool air of night hitting John’s now exposed cock “you’ll do, you’ll do just fine”. He doesn’t dare open them, even as he feels Sean move, likely so he’s looking away from the other man, John isn’t sure what to expect, he’s never… he’s a bit in the dark for all this, he just hopes that he can get his mind in the right place to think of someone else, anyone else, and then his body will follow.

Though, all worries are zapped from his mind the second there’s a surprisingly calloused, rough hand around him, working him slick with… something, he’s not sure- it’s another stark reminder that this isn’t a soft, gorgeous woman. This is Sean- rough, annoying Sean, but at the moment it’s the best John’s got.

Then he’s engulfed by a tight heat, and his hands, now released, are flying to shockingly slim hips, fingers digging into the skin as it all comes back to him. It feels nice, really fucking nice, and he doesn’t hesitate before chasing more, chasing anything he can get. Sean is straining to keep quiet as he’s fucked up into, his desires well on the way to being fulfilled. John can’t believe he’d been so long without this, it was intoxicating, and as his head grew foggy and his eyes filled the blackness of the backs of his eyelids with pictures of beautiful women, his beautiful woman, he can already tell he won’t last.

It’s just him, just him and the tightness around him, taking up and controlling his whole existence, all his nerves feel like they’re on fire, they tingle and buzz, sending shivers up his spine with every thrust, every roll of his hips into a spot that makes the man on his lap writhe and wriggle and whine, filled with pure bliss. Neither say anything to one another, the only sounds in the tent the smack of flesh, heavy breaths and noises of both exertion and enjoyment. Two men brought together by their desire, both moaning to the thoughts of completely different people, they were each other’s devices, a mere means to an end.

An end that had snuck up rather expertly on John.

His thrusts grow erratic, sloppily pushing up every time Sean sinks down, the ginger busying himself with a hand around his own erection, working himself desperately. It’s hard to focus, what with John plowing so perfectly into that one spot that made his vision go foggy, Sean almost wondered why Abigail would leave such a… skilled man, like this.

A skilled man that almost sobs when he comes, who yanks Sean down so hard onto his lap, fingers holding him so firmly, that it stings, and it’s that bite of pain that finally has the ginger coming completely undone, covering his hand and the insides of John’s thighs with spend. His body quickly fills with hot lead, his bones feeling like they’ve melted away, and he wavers a moment, body unsure whether to collapse or not.

Then there’s hands against him again, moving him so gently- almost worryingly so- to the side, the younger man wincing as he lays back against the annoyingly hard grass, the plants nipping and itching at his back through the thin undershirt he wears.

They both lay there in silence, a little stunned whilst they catch their breath, until finally,

“What’s it liked being fucked by Arthur Morgan?”

“It’s a great deal more fun than being fucked by you, Marston” they share a secretive grin, one of the only fond looks they’ll likely ever give each other, before Sean gets to his feet, groaning and grumbling about how John’s crippled him and he’ll never likely recover as he goes.

In the morning, Sean gripes and groans and complains about having to ride with such a wound and threatens to ‘have a stern talk with Abigail for letting her baby da getting so horny he’s practically rabid.’ John swears he’s about ready to shoot the ginger as they weave through the trees, the dark-haired mans eyes peeled for even the smallest relent in the seemingly endless mess of woodland.

“Maybe we’ll run into Arthur out here somewhere, seems to be uncivilised enough for him” John grumbled, relaxing the reigns until they sat barely gripped in his fingers, allowing Old Boy to manoeuvre the trees and vegetation on his own. The large horse was careful, picking his way carefully around trunks and stumps and sticks and roots, John didn’t bother try and help him, he’d been through thick and thin with this horse and lords knows he trusted him with his life. So he sat there, sat there and tried not to implode as Sean started up again.

“Rough country for a rough man, if ya know what I mean, Scarface” he chuckled in that snide little way he always did. “I have to say, for someone who hasn’t screwed around for so long he may as well be a virgin again, you didn’t leave me too unsatisfied, no offense, but nobody can hold a candle to one of the many loves of my life.” John rolled his eyes, he was hoping if he didn’t respond, Sean would get bored and shut up. He didn’t.

“Though, I have to say, you were a lot better than that O’Driscoll we adopted, I was bein’ real stupid that time, figured I’d give him a whirl before Bill tried those tongs out again. First he can’t say Colm’s name righ’ then he can’t fuck to save his life. And he kept calling me ‘sir’ like he was talking to Arthur or something… maybe he was wishing he was, ha, now that’s a thought.” For someone who’d only just been introduced to this whole thing last night, hearing that all this was somehow going on in their camp (and regularly, by the sounds of it) was mind boggling. No wonder Sean never left, there was no way he could get bored with all the people he slept with.

“Sean, please shut up” John groaned, nudging Old Boy on softly with the insides of his ankles as the woods thinned, now looking around eagerly for a road. “Finally” he breathed to himself as a road came into sight, and his horse didn’t need to be told twice before speeding up in the direction of the dirt trail.

“Look, I’m sure that now we’ve somewhat got our bearings, we can find a sign and go do that robbery, I know where it is, I jus’ got turned around a little!” Sean bargained, but John wasn’t having it, he sternly repeated his earlier demand for the ginger to shut up, not that that helped. “I thought what we had was special, John, don’t go turning back into an arsehole after I helped ye’ out” how did Arthur, of all people stand this little shit?

“ _You_ can try again, _I’m_ going back to camp and never going anywhere with you ever again!” John huffed, looking over his shoulder to where he could see the looming mountains and then starting in the opposite direction, hoping it’ll lead him straight near camp. Sean meanwhile was about to throw a temper tantrum.

“I get bugger all leads, I need to get this done, Marston, I promise you’ll get a bigger cut if you stay!” he called, but nothing would stop John. This venture had been the most taxing event he’d ever endured, and it seemed even now when he was so close to escape, the galaxy wouldn’t let up, because now Sean was following, following and begging. Loudly.

“How does Arthur stand you?” John growled, nudging his horse into a gallop, the stallion almost as happy to get away from Sean as John himself. Not that they actually _did_ get away, but for a moment Sean’s voice was muffled by the wind.

“How does Abigail stand you… oh wait” Sean found himself real funny up until he realised this wasn’t helping convince John to stay, and he quickly changed his tune. “Please John, Grimshaw is ready to skin me hide if I don’ bring something in soon- being the camp mattress is fun but it doesn’t bring anything in! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity!” John wasn’t stopping, but he knew he couldn’t keep going, eventually Sean would give up and go off on his own, and given he could neither read nor adequately defend himself, he would be dead by the time the sun went down.

John chewed the inside of his cheek, and pulled softly on the reins to get Old Boy to slow down, he had an idea in the back of his mind, a way to get back to camp with Sean and John’s sanity in one piece, now, John had knocked a fair few people out- sometimes enemies, mostly people in camp who got too big for their britches and had to be calmed down. Now was no exception.

Slipping off his horse, John waited until Sean was close enough, before promptly yanking him flailing and screaming from his saddle, he muttered a sorry before doing what he’d been wanting to do for so long.

He knocked Sean out.

When they finally arrived in camp, Sean only just coming around and confusedly groaning to himself, Ennis following obediently behind and trying to sniff his owner every time he got close enough. “You’re back! Thought we’d have to send Charles out” Dutch announced, approaching the two as John hitched and pulled Sean down from the horse, abruptly dropping him on the ground.

“You wouldn’t have had to worry about that, I would’ve refused” Charles grumbled from where he sat by his sleeping bag, arrow in one hand, knife in the other.

John could practically feel the leader’s disappointment. “Back and empty handed, by the looks of things” he sighed, before quickly deciding he no longer cared what the two had gotten up to.

“Charming, isn’t he? Hosea needs to hurry up and fuck him into a better mood before I throw his fucken gramophone at him.”

John straightened up with a start, now that, he didn’t need. Sure, he and Arthur had always joked about it, and Hosea never shied away from calling he and Dutch a couple, but this was the confirmation he really didn’t need. He hardly thought twice before hightailing it.

“John! John you fucker leh me go!”

John didn’t untie him, and neither did anyone else in camp.

**Author's Note:**

> remember to leave a comment cuz i got ideas but no motivation


End file.
